Like Father Like Son
by shana852963
Summary: Sometimes it seems like George's son, Fred, is far too much like him and his late Uncle for his own good.


"Dad, can you show us the Snackboxes again?" Fred asked his father as him and his cousins, James and Louis, followed George around the back of the joke shop.

"Why on earth do you want to see those again?" George asked. "You've seen me slip them to Uncle Percy enough times."

"I know, but we want to try them on ourselves," Fred grinned. "James says he has a in muggle school coming up tomorrow and he wants to get out of it."  
"They give you exams in that place?" George frowned, looking over at his nephew. "In what?"

"Math," James muttered. "It's boring. But I won't have to take it if I'm sick!"

"James, your mum would see right through that ploy," George informed him. "And it would be my head she'd have. Want my advice? Take one of my self-correcting quills for your exam."

"But Uncle George, muggle schools don't use quills," James pointed out.

"Then what do you lot write with?"

"They're called pencils," Louis said.

"Weird…" George said, shaking his head. "Ah, well, can't help you then I'm afraid, Jamie."

"What's in this box, dad?" Fred asked, making to open a large carton that was laying on the floor nearby."

"Don't touch those," George warned, quickly pointing his wand at the box, causing it to levitate up to a higher shelf. "Blimey, you three make doing inventory near impossible."

"What was inside?" Fred asked.

"A new type of Fanged Frisbee," George replied. "Me and Uncle Ron haven't worked out all the kinks yet, though, so they're still pretty dangerous."

"Can't we help you?" Louis asked.

"Tell you what," George smiled. "When Ron and I have worked on them a bit more, you can help us test them out."

Just then there was a loud popping sound, and Bill Weasley appeared.

"What was that about testing something out?" Bill asked his brother right away.

"Don't you worry your pretty head, Bill," George said. "Those Fanged Frisbees still have a long way to go before they get to the testing stage."

"Better not let Fleur or Ginny hear that you're using their kids for that," Bill chuckled. "And I imagine Angelina will be less than thrilled."

"I usually forget to mention those testing sessions to them," George said simply.

"Where is Angelina anyway?" Bill asked, looking around the back of the store.

"Took Roxy over to her parents," George said. "I'll be taking Fred over there as soon as I finish up here. And once Harry comes to get James."

"I'll take him," Bill said. "Teddy's over with Victoire right now working on their summer homework. Harry can come and fetch them both from my place."

"They're working on _homework_?" George smirked. "Hope you didn't leave the two of them alone. Those two fancy each other, you know."

"Don't you start," Bill warned as the three children laughed. He held out his hands for James and Louis to come with him. They disapparated with a loud crack, leaving only George and his son.

"Alright, Fred, give me a few more minutes and then we'll go and join your mum and sister. I'm going to go wipe down the front counter. You stay back here and clean up your Gobstones. And _don't touch anything_."

"I won't," Fred muttered heavily, glancing longingly up at the box of Frisbees his father had put out of his reach. As George headed to the front of the store, the six-year old shoved his Gobstones back into his bag and let out a bored sigh.

_I bet the Frisbees aren't too far from being done, _Fred thought to himself. _And just a peek wouldn't hurt anything…_

Fred quickly checked to be sure that his father was out of sight before running over to the shelf where the box of Frisbees was placed. Fred carefully began to climb up towards the box, ignoring the few creaks the shelves gave as he scaled upwards. He had just about reached the top when the shelf he had been standing on suddenly gave out. Fred let out a cry of surprise and tried to quickly regain his balance. As he wobbled back-and-forth, though, the entire set of shelves gave another groan and began to topple forward, sending Fred falling hard onto the floor. The child hit his head on the ground with a sickening crack, but before he could even begin to register the pain radiating though his head, he heard a series of growls and roars. He had just enough time to glance to his right and see the upturned box of Frisbees, before he felt several sharp fangs sink into his limbs. He let out another shriek before everything around him slowly went black.

….

Fred groggily let out a moan as his eyes gently fluttered open. He was no longer in the back of his father's store. He was lying in a lumpy white bed with too many pillows around him. A large cauldron sat on the bedside table next to him; purple smoke coming out the top. And sitting right next to his bedside were his parents, both looking anxious and worried.

"Oh! He's up!" his mother exclaimed, jumping to her feet and throwing her arms around him. "Fred, how do you feel, sweetheart? The healers said you'll be very sore for a bit."

"My arms hurt," Fred mumbled, looking down at the heavy bandages that bound his arms. He looked up at her. "What happened?"

"You had a little accident in your dad's store," Angelina smiled at him. "But you're going to be just fine and-"

"What happened was that you didn't listen to a word I told you," George cut Angelina off, narrowing his eyes. He looked angrier than Fred had ever seen him. "I _told _you not to go touching anything. I _told _you those bloody Frisbees were dangerous! What in Merlin's beard were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself _killed _Fred!"

Fred's eyes widened. "I'm sorry," he said shakily. "I just wanted-"

"You're lucky those Frisbees didn't rip your arm out!" George continued, his voice rising. "This was the _stupidest _thing you've ever done! You can forget about going out for a fly this weekend! And you know what? You are not to step foot in the shop anymore!"

"But-But it was an accident!" Fred said, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"George, can I talk to you?" Angelina said skillfully before George could open his mouth to respond. "Out in the hall?"

George reluctantly nodded and followed his wife out to the corridor.

"Have you lost your mind?" Angelina hissed once the door closed behind him.

"He didn't listen!" George defended. "He completely disobeyed my instructions and look what happened!"

"He's six!" Angelina said. "And it was an _accident_! He shouldn't have been climbing around in the back of the store, but he didn't mean for this to happen."

"But I _told _him-"

"Oh and since when have you listened to what you were told?" Angelina scoffed. "Especially when you were his age? I know for a fact that you and Fred were even worse when you were kids!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Angelina's expression softened. "Oh…"

George quickly looked down at the floor. "When I heard the crash and I ran back and saw him laying there...passed out and his arms bleeding…it-it just reminded me…I already lost one Fred. Don't know what would happen if anything happened to him."

Angelina stepped over and wrapped her arms around him. "That must've been a horrible thought. But I don't think Fred understands where you're coming from, love."

"No, I reckon I must've just scared him senseless," George sighed guiltily. "Usually leave the yelling to you, don't I?"

"You did a pretty nice job of it," Angelina smiled. "Nice to know you have it in you."

"I'll talk to him," George promised.

…

Later that evening, once Fred's grandparents, cousins, Uncles and Aunts, all of whom had rushed to his bedside as soon as they had heard of what happened, had left, George stepped back into the hospital room.

Fred, who was looking through a comic book that Charlie had given him, looked up with a timid expression. George smiled and pulled out a pouch of Jelly Slugs; Fred's favorites.

"Managed to convince the witch at Honeydukes to give me a bag of just the green ones," George told his son, handing him the bag. "Know you like those the best."

"Thanks," Fred said softly.

George settled down on the bed next to Fred. "Listen…I suppose I may have overreacted a bit earlier. Once your arm heals up, I'll still take you on your fly. And you're not banned from the joke shop. You know I need you for help testing out my new products."

Fred didn't reply.

"I'm sorry I got so upset with you," George continued. "I know it _was_ an accident. I'm just happy you're alright."

Fred still didn't say anything. George slowly rolled up the sleeve of his sweater, revealing a faint scar on his left forearm. "See this?"

"It's a scar," Fred finally spoke. "Like Uncle Harry's?"

"Mmm, mine's a bit less impressive than his, but yes, it's a scar," George chuckled. "Want to know how I got it?"

Fred slowly nodded.

"I've told you about my twin," George said. "The one you're named after; Fred. Well, when Fred and I were six years old, just like you, we decided that we would play the best prank ever on your Uncle Percy. See, he liked to go into the yard at the Burrow and read these really _boring _books in the hammock. Fred and I thought we'd liven things up a bit by dropping some Dungbombs down on him from the roof."

"The roof?" Fred repeated.

"That's right," George replied. "Fred and I climbed out the attic window and got onto the roof."

"Whoa!" Fred gasped. "That's really high!"

"It was," George said. "Course Fred and I thought we were invincible. We weren't, as it turns out. Just as we were about to drop our first Dungbomb, we both wound up slipping on a few loose roof tiles. We fell all the way down to the garden."

"Were you alright?" Fred asked, hanging onto George's every word.

"Yes," George assured him. "Luckily, our magic picked the right moment to show up. But we did still hurt ourselves. I broke my left arm in three places and Fred broke his right arm the same way. You wouldn't believe how angry your grandmother was. If you think _I _was scary earlier…Anyway, though, falling off the roof was just one of many stunts Fred and I pulled. Looking back on them now, I see that they probably weren't the best ideas, no?"

"What about making your own joke shop?"

"Okay, that one was brilliant, but a lot of the others were pretty dumb," George said. "We could have gotten _really _hurt." He took a deep breath. "Losing your Uncle Fred was the most painful thing I've ever been through. In the end, he didn't get hurt over a stupid stunt; he died a hero in the war. But still, seeing _you _get hurt today…it made me feel exactly the same way I felt ten years ago when he was hurt. That's why I got so mad at you."

"Oh," Fred said softly. "I'm sorry dad. Really. I-I promise, I won't ever do anything like that again."

"I wish I could believe that," George smirked. "But I think you'd just about explode. You'll probably get into a lot more mischief. You _shouldn't_, don't want your mum thinking I'm encouraging you more than usual, but you're six. Just do your best to be careful; don't go jumping off the roof or climbing up for boxes of dangerous joke products. Deal?"

Fred beamed up at his dad. "Deal!"


End file.
